


Before We Are Heroes

by WildNWaste



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Robin Hood (Traditional), miraculous
Genre: F/M, Gen, Historical Miraculous, Marichat, Miraculous Crossover, Robin Hood - Freeform, miraculous - Freeform, robin hood!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildNWaste/pseuds/WildNWaste
Summary: A Miraculous/Robin Hood crossover story.King Gabriel is disturbed that the young Prince has gone missing! That, topped with the emergence of a new band of highwaymen, attacking and stealing the gold and grain he has taxed from the people (and the mocking songs they sing of him), has the king in an absolute outrage.Convinced that this 'Feral Hood' and his bandits are behind his son's kidnapping as well, King Gabriel will stop at nothing to see this villain hung by the neck until dead.The only problem: Feral Hood is the missing Prince Adrien.





	1. Before We Are heroes Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplykes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplykes/gifts).



The day was hot, as it gets in the midst of late spring. The midday sun shone through the stained glass of the peaked windows, lighting the room around the finely dressed young man who stood in its wake. A murmuring filled the air from the people who passed by on the cobblestone paths below. His solemn eyes went unnoticed, as they always had, by the passersby as he watched them from his lofty place. Solitude was his constant companion.

His golden hair shimmered in the colored rays as he shook his head, ridding his mind of the dark cloud that haunted his thoughts. This would be a good day to walk in the sun. Perhaps its light could do away with this perpetual melancholy. Perhaps this day his father would grant him permission to leave the keep.

Speaking with his father had always been difficult. The two men could not have been more different of mind. However, since his father had assumed the throne, speaking to the man had become nearly impossible.

The golden-haired boy tugged at the hem of his tunic rubbing the silk between his fingers nervously. He stood before the entrance to the throne room, where his father was sure to be seated, but his anxious mind and trembling knees stalled him at the threshold. Taking a breath to steady himself, he pushed through the door with his head held high and his anxiety tucked well away. Any sign of weakness was an unforgivable sin against his father's name.

There he sat like a regal vulture peering down upon a rancid carcass. The severity of his father's features punctuated the cold within his eyes and was more than enough to chill any room into an icy silence. Yet, as the boy looked up to meet his father's gaze, he noticed a most off-putting grin.

Anyone who didn't know the man might have thought he was welcoming them into the room, greeting them with a smile. The boy knew better. To him, the smile upon his father's face was only devious and calculating. He knew what the boy wanted before he had even said a word. He held his father's gaze as he walked confidently forward. Coming to a halt several paces from the foot of the throne, he waited to be addressed.

"You wish to go outside again today?" the man's baritone voice purred like a hungry lion. The chill that ran down the boy's spine caught his breath in his throat for a moment. "Tell me, boy, why is it you always wish to leave the safety of the keep? Do you not know your place? The only place you will ever belong is here with me. The people out there bear no love for a French bastard such as you. I am all you have. Enlighten me as to what could entice you so, that you would wish to leave such comfort and safety? Have I not provided for you everything that you desire?"

"My King Gabriel," his words stuck like honey to his dry mouth but their urgency was not diminished by it. "I would never wish to leave this place. You are a good and wise king and you have provided me with comforts I would have never known otherwise." He paused to take a much-needed breath. "My only request is that you grant me permission to take a walk around the ward. The day is beautiful and I believe it would serve me well to walk in the light."

"Such a lovely construct," the King mused, leaning back on his throne and pressing the tips of his fingers together in a contemplative gesture. "I believe it would do everyone well to walk in the light... very well, Prince Adrien, You may have your walk in the light."

Overjoyed at his good fortune Adrien bowed his head to his father, making certain to keep his features straight that they would not give him away.

The light breeze ruffled his airy tunic and cooled his skin. Adrien was permitted to leave the keep so seldom it was all he could do to keep himself from running through the gardens and rolling down the grassy knoll as he would have done as a young boy. Such an act now might get him beaten for being an embarrassment. The thought passed through him leaving a sour taste in its wake.

The dark fog shrouding his mind shrank away in the truth of the light. Turning his face to the sun, Adrien closed his eyes and listened.

The inner ward held its silence gently, allowing Adrien to breathe at ease. It was a silence that could easily be overlooked by one too busy to take notice, yet it held great peace for those who took the time necessary to hear it.

Most days Adrien felt as though he were a foreigner. A captive within his skin, he was living a life that was not his to live. One day he was a Prince, the next he was not a Prince. Another day he was his father's son, then he was not his father's son. Adrien was not his own, his life and worth waxing and waning as often as the phases of the moon. He was not free in any sense, except within his own mind; even that, however, had its limitations.

It was in that moment Adrien determined that this day would be his. The King could not take away the sun that came every day just as he could not stop the wind. Gabriel was, after all, only a man. Small truths to some perhaps, yet they cradled within them all the strength Adrien would ever need.

 


	2. A Punishment of One's Own Choosing

A thrill of panic washed Adrien cold. A cry of anger nearby and the sound of yelling hearkened back to darker memories, ones he wished away many moons ago. The sound of distress compelled him nonetheless, and he rushed to the source of the cry.

Adrien settled into a place beside the gate where he peered around the wall's edge to bear witness to the scene in relative safety. Two men faced each other just beyond the outer gate. One was a man of great size, the other was a man Adrien recognized as a sheriff.

"You have had more than enough time to pay your debt! The crown demands its due!" yelled the sheriff completely unphased by the other man's enormous stature. "You owe a rather substantial amount in back taxes, far more than your pathetic life is worth by any means!"

The large man tried to push out through the gate, reaching for what Adrien assumed to be his wife and child. Knocking him against the sidewall, the sheriff grabbed him by the arm and began dragging the man towards the raised portcullis. The man's wife cried out as she beat the sheriff's back with her fists in her desperation.

"If you take him away the debt will never be paid!" the woman screamed, tears of rage streaming down her face.

"You dare to strike an officer of the crown, do you?" the sheriff yelled at the woman, turning and snatching her wrist as she attempted to continue her assault. "Then perhaps selling your worthless family will relieve you of your debt! You're both going to the dungeons where you can await sentencing!"

"No!" the man wailed struggling to break his wife and himself free. Two watchmen from the gate, seeing the commotion, came to assist the sheriff. The couple resigned themselves to their fate, there was nothing to be done now.

A fire burned in Adrien's belly. No debt could be so great that is was worth more than one's life or the lives of an entire family. Without thinking, Adrien rushed forward to deter the guards from taking the prisoners beyond the gate. He had moved on instinct, without thinking on the potential severity of the consequences. It was too late to take it back now.  
  
"Who are you?" demanded the sheriff as the party came to a halt before the boy blocking the way. Assessing Adrien's appearance he added, "I don't care if you are a noble. I will take you in for impeding justice if you don't get out of the way."

"I..." Adrien faltered, feeling as though he would do better to simply move aside. For the briefest moment, he doubted himself. He did not even know these people. What had been the cause of such reckless behavior? Then his eyes met with the woman and saw the desperate hope within her. He knew then, he had to do something, anything to save them.

"I demand you release these people at once!" Adrien commanded, bolstering as much authority as his father. The guards glance to one another for reassurance but the sheriff was less convinced.

"And who are you to be giving us orders?" the sheriff's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Adrien's bluff was failing. He could feel the illusion of authority slipping away. "I have not seen you before."

"If you wish to know who I am," Adrien placed his hands on his hips, squaring his shoulders to the sheriff, "then I will take you before the king myself and there you shall explain to him why you didn't obey my command."

"Would you look at this one!" The sheriff's laugh was hollowed by his uncertainty. "Surely he rides a higher horse than King Gabriel himself!"

"Silence!" Adrien hissed, his demeanor changing into that of a cornered animal.

"I do not have time to waste on you, boy." The sheriff sidestepped to move past the boy but Adrien found himself unable to control himself as his hand caught hold of the sheriff's vest.

Pulling the man down he yelled into his face: "Since you so desire to be the next in line for sentencing, I shall take you to the king!" Adrien turned, half dragging the sheriff behind him until he heard the sound he was longing to hear.

"P-please, sir!" the sheriff had tried to call Adrien's bluff but staying true paid well in the boy's favor. Groveling now, the sheriff fell to his knees as though his legs had lost their strength. "I did not know you were in so well with the king! Forgive me, good sir I beg of you! I have a wife at home who is with child! I cannot leave her!"

A moment prior this man had been willing to tear a family apart for something as frivolous as money, yet as the tables turn against him, he begs for mercy just the same. Adrien didn't want to look at him. He knew that if he did, his resolve would break. However, he wasn't sure what his father would do if he brought a sheriff before him and request this family be forgiven of their debt. The sheriff's continued begging only became acuter the longer Adrien thought through his options. Though it irked him, the prince could not ignore a plea for help or forgiveness. Begrudgingly, he shifted his stance to look back at the man, his grip on his vest lessening.

"Let it be known," Adrien steadied his voice as he released his hold on the sheriff, "henceforth, these people are forgiven of their debt. You are not to seek them out again."

"Yessir!" the sheriff scrambled back struggling to get his footing as a sharp gasp and intake of breath called Adrien's attention back to the people standing only a few paces away.

The look on the woman's face as she reached up to cover her mouth was almost more than Adrien could take. Her tears of rage had turned to tears of gratitude. Her husband stood cradling his wife in his arms a dumbfounded look on his face. So certain he was that he and his wife would be sold off to pay their debt that their salvation rendered him speechless.

Adrien felt a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. Was it hope? Never would he have believed himself capable of saving anyone from anything. He was powerless in his father's sight. These happenings granted him clarity. The king could not take the sun from the sky, he could not stop the wind, and he only possessed as much power as the people believed.

It wasn't until later in the evening that Adrien was called on by his father. The king's grin from earlier had vanished and in its place was a sneer of the utmost dissatisfaction. Adrien had dreaded that his father would find out about his deeds that day but he didn't think it would come about so soon.

Adrien held his breath, walking into the throne room as one approaches a sleeping bear. He was uncertain what it was he would find there. His heart beat painfully against his chest as the prince saw what he had prayed not to see. The large man from that morning knelt shackled and defeated before the king and beside him stood the sheriff. Behind the two men stood another man with a black cowl pulled over his face, a rod in his hands made of three birch saplings tied together with rawhide. Someone was going to be whipped.

"That is him, sire!" the sheriff shouted angrily jabbing a finger at Adrien. The act alone was harmless but the look upon the man's face implied he was imagining sticking Adrien in the eye. The thought itself made his eyes cringe in phantom pain.

"So it is..." Gabriel stood from his throne and the whole room fell silent. Clip, clip, clip... the sound of Adrien's footfalls filled the air but the distance between father and son could not be tied. Finally, he stopped and the absence of the sound deafened him. The king stepped down to meet the boy coming to a stop in front of him. Adrien braced himself for what he knew was coming.

"What is the sum of the man's debt?" Gabriel asked the room, his eyes transfixed on the boy who's spirit diminished before him. After a moment the sheriff replied.

"His debt nears thirty silver pieces, your worship."

"Thirty silver pieces? What a remarkable sum for one so penniless." The king reached up to stroke his chin. Adrien couldn't help but to shy away from his father as he raised his hand. Such a sign of weakness made Gabriel even angrier. "Thirty silver pieces... Is that not the same amount that Judas received for betraying his king? And here you are betraying your king over the sum of thirty silver pieces!"

His rigid hand caught Adrien so hard across the face it drove him to the ground. One of his many rings crushed the boy's lip, splitting it open against his teeth. Adrien drew a trembling hand to his face. A lump of no small size was already forming, putting a great deal of pressure on the open wound. Surely it would split more if it continued to grow.

"If you wish to alleviate this man of debt so dearly that you would act so far out of place," Gabriel wrung his aching fingers in his other hand as he loomed over Adrien's recumbent form, "then I have no choice but to forgive him of his debt." Adrien did not believe his father's words for even a moment. "Yet you acted out of place. This cannot go unpunished... you will watch as this man receives two lashings for every silver piece he owes on his debt. Only then will he be forgiven." The king turned back to his throne, nodding to the man with the whip.

The rod rose above the man's head. Adrien grit his teeth. He could not let this stand!

He dove between the man and the whip from where he knelt on the floor beside them. The lash came down. Striking across the boy's face, the whip tore the soft flesh beneath his right eye. He could not help the small cry that escaped him but the silence that followed was suffocating to all but Adrien. His determination was set when he first saw the poor man in shackles.

"I will not watch this man be torn for my error," Adrien said after a long pause. The blood from his wounds ran down his neck, soaking into the silk at his collar. The king's eyes widened in shock but quickly narrowed in fury.

"If you will not watch," Gabriel hissed so viciously that all but the prince retreated a step. He would not back down, not this time, "then you will take his punishment and then some. One hundred lashes."

Without a second of hesitation, Adrien loosed his belt and pulled his tunic over his head. He threw the blood-stained garment unceremoniously to the floor between himself and his father. The man whose debt was owed observed Adrien with the most disbelieving stare as the boy held his arms out to either side. Through damaged eyes, the prince watched the king. With an unshakable disposition, he stood awaiting his punishment.


	3. The Friar of No Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD AND GORE
> 
> Fairly mild but I'm warning anyway for the first part of the chapter. If you can't deal with that stuff skip to the line in the text. You should be good from there.

The first ten lashes had not been so bad, though they had stung fiercely. It wasn't until his blistered skin had begun to tear open from the cross lashing that he started to feel his legs shake. Adrien willed them to stand steady. He was not weak. He was not weak. He was not weak.  
  
Halfway through the flogging, the pain was causing lights to flash in his eyes. Blood splattered the cobblestone around him, drying onto the sun-scorched ground. The day was at an end, most people would have gone home by now if it weren't to see the precious noble boy get a lashing. The crowd jeered and spit at him. They possessed no love for nobles, that much was clear. But Adrien couldn't hear them through the ringing in his ears.  
  
Adrien leaned his chest against the flogging post. He had been lead to the town square to receive his punishment publicly. A lesser man would have been on his knees long ago, begging for a reprieve. As the number of lashings passed seventy, the crowds went silent. Was this boy to be beaten to death? Why such a severe punishment? How much longer would this continue?  
  
Adrien gasped for breath as the pain seized his lungs, sending his body into spasms of agony. The binds at his wrists wore his flesh raw as he pulled them with every strike. Near the end of it all, Adrien couldn't keep the tears out of his eyes. Overwhelmed with indignation and sorrow, he finally allowed himself to cry out in his anguish. His heart lay broken before the circumspective crowd.  
  
Finally, it was over. Everything around him spun as the earth beneath him seemed to rush up to meet him. The sweat and blood mingled as it trickled in steady streams down his body. The salt of his sweat burned the open wounds, igniting the ribbons of flesh that clung dearly to his back.  
  
Still struggling for breath, Adrien dropped to his knees. The world was swimming. He retched at the foot of the flogging post, his arms extended over his head still shackled in place. The stretch of his arms and back as he fell to his knees sent a new wave of pain over him.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

  
The king didn't bother himself with coming to observe the flogging. It was beneath him to care about such a thing as long as the punishment was served. Some of the mob had dispersed once the ordeal was over but others stayed. There was a strength in this boy they found intriguing, they simply could not look away.  
  
Adrien whimpered as he tried to pull himself by his bound wrists back onto his feet. His legs felt dead to him, numb with pain. To give up, to remain on his knees would mean defeat. The king would win and that was not acceptable. He could not let his father win. Never again would he be subservient. He would fight against such a villain until his final days.  
  
It deprived him of all his strength but Adrien pulled himself to his feet. Leaning heavily on the post for support, he panted for breath. As he stood up on his own strength, there was a collective gasp and a smatter of muttering. Adrien could only make out a few words here and there through the ringing in his ears. Among them were words such as 'strong', 'noble', and 'rebellious'. Is that what they thought of him? His mind wondered vaguely, but the thought could find no purchase.  
  
The pain was so great, the boy hardly noticed when the torturer released him from his bonds. He stumbled to the side, his legs not fully cooperating with his will. A pair of hands caught him before he fell. He did not have the strength left to look at who was aiding him. His arms were draped over their shoulders and the side of his head rested against theirs.  
  
Adrien's toes dragged the ground behind the hunched figure. They bore all of his weight on their back as he was brought through the gates and into the darkness of the ward. The sun was almost set. Was it really so late?  
  
The scattering of rocks underfoot served as a prelude to the thunderous rumble that broke the stillness of the evening. The late spring was always riddled with storms. Adrien knew the dungeons flooded with heavy rains. He wondered idly if his father would show him even a modicum of mercy and allow him to stay in his quarters in the castle.  
  
The light and warmth of fires surrounded him from torches on the walls. He knew he must be within the keep and the thought made him feel like vomiting again. They stopped just inside the keep and the sound of deliberate steps could be heard coming to a stop beside him. Adrien attempted to peek around the room with his unhindered eye. Instead, he found his vision obscured by the sight of fine purple robes trimmed with golden buttons, chains, and white furs. It could only be the king.  
  
"You there!" the king shouted at someone nearby. "Take Adrien to his chambers and take care not to damage him further! This boy is precious to me."  
  
The prince felt himself being taken from his aid and carefully carried off to his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy who had brought him home. He did not know him, though he looked to be about the same age as Adrien. The boy seemed as though he had a thousand words at the tip of his tongue, words that would go unspoken in the presence of the king. Adrien managed a small smile at him before being taken out of sight.  
  
"You may go now," the king said, waving the boy off without another thought.  
  
'If this is how the king treats someone who is precious to him. Then what hope is there for the rest of us?' the boy thought to himself before leaving the castle far behind. The same people Adrien had saved from indentured servitude just that morning, greeted the boy as he returned home.  
  
The boy could not sleep that night, his thoughts racing. If they could be freed by one boy's act of bravery and defiance against the king, then what could the combined acts of many do?  
  
The king loitered outside Adrien's door a deep contemplative look etched into his features. The boy had acted out of place, therefore he had to be punished. He was not in the wrong. Then why did he feel so at fault? It wasn't his doing that the country was poor. His late older brother King Michael was the one who put England into debt with his ridiculous crusade. He had to make up for his brother's shortcomings somehow. Gabriel couldn't afford to pardon anyone of debt.  
  
Gabriel grit his teeth, clenching his fists tightly he pushed the thoughts from his head. He was not the guilty party in this matter. It was his damned bastard's fault. He drove him to it. He was given no choice in the matter. Adrien had quite literally forced his hand; to have backed down would have been a show of weakness. He was not weak. He was not weak. He was not weak.  
  
Gabriel decided better of going in to see his son. The sight of him so badly wounded would have only solidified this feeling of guilt. He turned to walk away, nearly trodding upon the small man standing next to him. So deep in thought was he, that he had not even heard the man approach.  
  
"Forgive me, your Highness," the small elderly man gave a bow, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so, "I did not intend to sneak up on you. I came to attend to the wounded."  
  
"And who are you?" The king's heart had skipped a beat when he saw the little man beside him. He recovered quickly, however, regaining his usual regality. "I never sent for a healer. How did you get in here?"  
  
"Ah, yes," the codger shifted under the weight of the sack he had slung over one shoulder. "I came through the front gate as most would. I witnessed the suffering this boy has endured. I saw his wounds. I have never before seen such strength in one so young. He had a true purpose in his eyes. When I saw the boy still standing at the end, I knew I had to do everything I could to help him. I am a healer, a friar of no real consequence. If you would permit me entrance, my King, I only wish to help."  
  
"Very well," Gabriel conceded. This was not weakness, this was sense. He did not wish for the boy to... "But know, that if he dies in your care, you will suffer the same fate."  
  
With that Gabriel passed around the little man and off to his own chambers. This day had been so very trying. Gabriel went to bed that night but could not sleep with thoughts of his son flowing through his mind. Had his son truly stood through the entire ordeal? How was it that he could possess such strength? The boy had never shown signs of this sort of potential in the past, only obstinance. Though, he supposed, that could be considered a strength of its own accord.  
  
The friar entered the room once the king had disappeared down the corridor. The boy's golden hair lay flat to his face and neck, matted with sweat and blood. The only attention the boy's wounds had received was a cool damp cloth laid over his back. Though it probably alleviated some of the burning in the angry tissue, it did little to help the boy heal. The friar sighed and shook his head sadly. They hadn't even cleaned him.  
  
Adrien moaned at the sight of the man: "Did my father send you to pray for my soul before I depart?" His voice was rough against his throat.  
  
"You have nothing to fear, young Prince," the friar smiled kindly at Adrien. His good eye grew large. It had been a slip of the tongue. His mind was not in the right place to be speaking to anyone. Noticing the mounting fear in the boy's face, the friar held his hands up in a calming fashion. "I knew of the circumstances of your birth before your slip of the tongue. You have nothing to fear, Adrien, I assure you." The twinkle in the friar's eye set his nerves at ease and he let out a small sigh. "I am here to mend your wounds."  
  
"Did my father send you?" the slightest hint of hope within his voice pained the friar but he had to speak the truth.  
  
"I witnessed your trial earlier today," he sighed. Setting his sack down, he pulled the short stool over from where it sat at the foot of the bed. "I could not let one so brave go without care after such an event. I came of my own accord. I was not called upon by your father."  
  
"I... I thought not," Adrien didn't have the ability to keep his emotions hidden. So thin was his resolve, the boy pouted like a child allowing some small tears to fall from his eyes. He sniffed loudly, wanting to turn his head from the friar but not bearing the strength to do so.  
  
"I know that was not the answer you hoped for," the kindly friar laid a hand gently on the side of Adrien's face. The gesture was of little comfort to Adrien, though it was enough to quiet his tears. "But there comes a time when we all must set aside our ideals and accept reality."  
  
"And what is my reality?" Adrien asked, unsure of what to think of this friar.  
  
"Perhaps your reality is knowing that since your mother has passed, your father will never be able to convince the church that his marriage to your mother was legitimate, that you are legitimate." The man stood, beginning to remove the damp cloth from the boy's back. Adrien winced but made not a sound. "Perhaps your reality is also knowing that your father will always take his anger out on those closest to him. Perhaps your reality is in knowing that there is nothing you will ever be able to do to change the way things are."  
  
"No," Adrien breathed. The friar's words were right but they were also wrong. Things could always change, he could not simply allow this to be his truth. "If that is my reality then I will not rest until I have done everything within my power to change it for the better. I cannot let this stand."  
  
"I have a question for you, young Prince," the friar took a bottle from his bag and placed it on the nightstand. He motioned that he desired Adrien to sit up. Taking his arm he helped the boy off the bed and onto the stool. "Why did you help those people?"  
  
Adrien leaned himself forward against the side of the bed as the little old man went through his pack for a few more items. He hadn't thought of why. To him, there was not really a reason in such a sense. It was more a matter of right and wrong. It was the right thing to do.  
  
"I suppose I could not bear to see a family torn asunder for something as meaningless as money," Adrien gave a small shrug, ignoring the searing sensation that shot across his back at the movement.  
  
"Hm, I see..." The friar pulled a length of cloth from the bag and set it aside along with another bottle of an unknown liquid. "That tells me why you stopped the guards from taking them away, yes. However, I desire to know your intent. Why did you take John Little's suffering upon your shoulders? Was it for recognition? For praise, perhaps?"  
  
"I did it because it was right," Adrien was getting tired of talking. He only wished to sleep but he knew that he wouldn't rest so easily tonight. "I did it because I knew that no one else would. I did it because... it was my fault he was to be flogged. I made his family a promise I could not keep. When I saw he was to be torn for my foolishness, I could not stand idly by and watch. I saw a way in which I could keep my word and I took it."  
  
"So, you truly did it for justice?" The friar hummed as he thought. Pouring a strong smelling liquid into a shallow basin, he dipped a length of cloth into the bowl. "That is a very good answer."  
  
"What is your name, sir friar?" Adrien asked as the man twisted some of the liquid from the fabric in his hands.  
  
"Oh, please," the man said smiling up at the boy, "call me Friar Fu. And I am sorry, but this is going to hurt."  
  
With that, the man pressed the dripping rag against the lower parts of Adrien's back. The pain made his muscles seize. What had he done to deserve such torment?


	4. A Miraculous Cure

The searing in Adrien's back begged at him as Friar Fu meticulously cleaned the lacerations. When the little friar finished, he set the rag in the bowl and took the small corked bottle he had placed on the bedside dresser.  
  
"Is this going to hurt too?" Adrien's voice pinched at the thought. He wasn't sure he could take any more pain this day. Friar Fu laughed lightly and shook his head.  
  
"No, this one is meant to soothe your wounds," The old man uncorked the bottle and a peculiar smell wafted around them. It would have smelled good if not for the dry bitterness that intermingled with the minty floral scent. Friar Fu used the tips of his fingers to flick small droplets of the slick ointment over the boy's back. "This medicine will make it easier for you to breathe. Do not be fooled into thinking you can move freely, however. This will numb the pain but the wounds are still open. You must allow them to heal properly. I can only help you as much as you are willing to be helped. The rest is up to you."  
  
The throbbing sensation in his back began to subside as the ointment took effect. Adrien felt the tightness in his chest lift as the smell of the medicine opened his lungs and relaxed him into easy breathing. It was then that he fully realized the extent of his fatigue. That bitter smelling minty salve was the stuff of miracles.  
  
It was only then that Adrien was aware enough of his surroundings to notice the sound of rain pattering against his window. A flash of light and a deep rumbling tone reminded him of the storm he had heard approaching.  
  
Friar Fu took a cloth dipped in water and began wiping away the filth crusted to the boy's skin. He took great care attending to the boy's split and swollen eye. The look of the wound worried the Friar. There was no way of knowing what damage had been done to the eye itself, only time would tell.  
  
"One last treatment," Friar Fu handed Adrien a modest wooden cup and filled it with a sweet-scented drink. "Drink this. It will help you sleep."  
  
Adrien brought the cup to his lips and drank. The sugary drink tasted as though one had mixed honey and white wine. He coughed, the burn of alcohol hitting the back of his throat. He downed the rest of the drink and handed the cup back to the friar.  
  
"Wha-what was that?" Adrien breathed, the burn still fresh in his throat. "I've never had spirits so sweet."  
  
"That was a honey wine called mead. I do hope you enjoyed it," Adrien nodded to him, not yet feeling the effects that came with drinking wine. "I will check back with you in the morning, young Prince," Friar Fu said after he bandaged Adrien's wounds and gathered his things. He helped Adrien to stand and lay stomach down on the bed. "I shall pray for your swift recovery."  
  
"Thank you," Adrien said. Friar Fu gave him a courteous bow. He let his eyes fall closed as the door clicked shut behind the friar. Adrien listened to the rain, allowing the noise and rumble of thunder to lull him to sleep.  
  
Out in the rain, the friar walked drawing the hood of his robe up over his head. It did little to stop the downpour. The streets were empty as everyone had taken shelter from the storm long ago.  
  
"Master," came a quiet voice from within the friar's robes, "you seem to have taken a keen interest in this boy. Do you think he is the one?"  
  
"I was almost certain of it when I saw the fervency of his will," the friar said, not seeming at all disturbed by the proximity of the voice. "It was the answer he gave me that made up my mind."  
  
"You must think the boy very brave or very clever to bestow him with an item of great power under the nose of the king," the voice said after a moment of thought. "What if he is discovered?"  
  
"My feelings tell me that he will not stay at the castle much longer." Friar Fu entered the chapel and drew back his hood with a sigh. It was cold this night. "Not if he feels he has the power necessary to leave. And yes, Wayzz, I believe him both brave and clever. Otherwise, I would not even consider parting with the Black Cat."  
  
"The Black Cat!" Wayzz zoomed out from the satchel tied at the waist of his master's robe. What appeared as a small flying turtle floated beside Friar Fu as he walked to his chambers in the back of the tiny church. "Master, you truly believe that the Black Cat is necessary? What happens if he fails? What if the Black Cat is lost to us? It is your duty to-"  
  
"I know my duty, Wayzz," Friar Fu tilted his head and glanced at Wayzz. "I would not give up such a precious object unless I knew for certain it was the right thing to do."  
  
"Yes, of course, Master," Wayzz bowed his head respectfully to the old man. "When is it you plan on giving the Black Cat to the boy?"  
  
"Perhaps I will give it to him tomorrow when he's feeling better," Friar Fu did his best to dry off before sitting on the edge of his cot.  
  
"Master, you didn't!" Wayzz flitted around nervously. "You gave him panacea, didn't you! If you are found out to be an alchemist, you will be tried for witchcraft! You will be burned at the stake!"  
  
"I only gave him a little bit!" Friar Fu defended himself, lifting a finger and thumb to indicate the tiniest of portions. "I only gave him enough to start the healing process. He will not be healed completely and his wounds will still scar. It matters little if they suspect me of alchemy or not. I do not plan on staying here once the Black Cat has been released," Friar Fu laid back on the cot. "No, I plan on following his progress, wherever it may lead."  
  
"Very well, Master," Wayzz still appeared to be worried about something but worrying was what he did best.  
  
Adrien woke the next day to the sun shining brightly through his eastward facing windows. He watched the particles of dust dance on the light, swirling through the air as he breathed. The roaring pain from the night before had subsided, giving way to a soreness that made every muscle ache. He wanted to sit up. He wanted to move around but he also did not want to cause his wounds to open again. He sighed, resigning himself to simply lay there until someone came to help him.  
  
The door clicked open only a minute later, revealing King Gabriel with Friar Fu following close behind him. Standing back several paces from the boy, Gabriel watched as the old man helped Adrien up. The dizziness of the sudden change of position made the boy sway on his feet but he steadied himself with help from the healer beside him. He sat on the stool as he had the night before.  
  
"If his wounds smell of rot, it will not bode well for you, old Friar," King Gabriel's voice possessed a tense edge. The kindly friar only bowed his head respectfully and began unwrapping the bandages from Adrien's back.  
  
Friar Fu gasped and stepped back from the boy, his act rendering a stillness over the room. He looked back at the king with wide eyes and stepped to the side as Gabriel came forward to see what was the matter. His eyes too grew wide in shock.  
  
The wounds were not completely healed by any means. Still reddish and angry but the finer layers of skin had already begun to form as though the wounds were more than a month old. There was no scabbing, no dying tissue; only pure, healing, tender flesh.  
  
Adrien turned his head in worry, trying to see what had happened. His efforts were in vain, he could not see his own back. Gabriel stood silent, staring at the healing wounds. This was impossible. Unless...  
  
"It is a miracle, oh King," Friar Fu said in a hushed tone. "God be praised!"  
  
"What did you do?" Gabriel demanded as he reached out a hand and gently touched the newly developed skin of his son's back. He turned to the friar in earnest. "How did you do this?!"  
  
"On my word, my King!" Friar Fu said raising his hands for security. "I cleaned his wounds, sanitizing them with strong spirits, then I gave him a small cup of mead to help him sleep through the pain! Nothing more!"  
  
"Is this true?!" Gabriel demanded from Adrien who was watching the Friar closely. He noticed that the little man had left part of the process unmentioned; the bitter ointment that smelled of mint and flowers. Adrien turned to his father an nodded his head. "You are certain? He didn't put any strange ointments or potions on you?"  
  
"No, Sire," Adrien didn't know exactly what he was getting himself into but he couldn't let this man be punished for helping him in his time of need. "It is as he says. He only cleaned my back and gave me a glass of honey wine to help me sleep. That is all."  
  
Gabriel eyed them both wearily. He could not help the suspicion that he was being lied to but he could not prove otherwise. With a huff of frustration, he turned and left the room. It wasn't until his footfalls faded down the corridor that either of them dared speak a word.  
  
"The concoction I placed on your back last night," Friar Fu said quietly just as Adrien opened his mouth to ask, "was a simple but potent healing salve."  
  
"A healing salve?" Adrien repeated, an uncertain look on his face. "Does that mean, you practice witchcraft?"  
  
"Not all potions are concocted by means of wicked magic," Friar Fu explained. "I do not practice witchcraft but alchemy."  
  
"But what is the difference?" Adrien asked unsure of what to make of all of this. If witchcraft - or alchemy - could be used to heal his wounds over the course of one night, then it could not be so bad. Could it?  
  
"Witchcraft and Alchemy are often thought of as one in the same, but that could not be farther from the truth," Friar Fu held up his hands as he explained. "Witchcraft is the practice of magic. Alchemy is the practice of what is uncommonly known as science. For example, I did not create that salve with magic. I simply created it from common items in a very specific manner. It is called panacea but, alas, it is imperfect. It does have the properties to cure many things, but a true panacea would be able to cure anything that ails you. Though it is helpful, it is not the cure-all I had sought to create."  
  
Adrien took a moment to process the information. He nodded his head slowly. A medicine that could cure anything seemed as though it would be very convenient.  
  
"I fear I must leave you presently," Friar Fu said looking back at the door and nervously shifting his weight between his feet. "I fear your father will be back and he will not be pleased to see me still here with you on the mend. I shall pray that your bright spirit finds a way to prevail against the darkness. The path will be a long one and it will take you far away, but I have faith in you. My hopes for you are very high, dear Prince."  
  
With that, the little Friar left the room. His eyes twinkling as he closed the door behind him. Adrien did not understand the meaning of his words. Was he even meant to? Shrugging it off the boy got to his feet and searched his room for a light shirt to wear over his sore body. He pulled the delicate silk over his head gently, being careful in his movements. Though the slice beneath his eye had begun to heal, his lid remained bruised and swollen. The slightest touch caused it to throb painfully.  
  
Something shined brightly on the edge of his bed, catching his eye. Walking up to the luminous object, he saw it was an ornate mahogany box, small enough to fit on his palm. Looking back at the door he wondered if Friar Fu had perhaps left it on accident. Curiosity gnawed at Adrien's mind like a dog on a bone. He picked up the box and sat on the edge of his bed. He would, of course, return whatever was inside to the friar. He just found that he could not stop himself from discovering what was inside. He cracked it open.


	5. By Any Other Name

The bright light that shined out from the contents of the box blinded him, leaving the boy stunned. He stumbled back and plopped on his bed perhaps more roughly than could have been good for his back. He blinked his good eye several times, trying to rid his vision of the spots of light.   
  
"Oh wow... What happened to your face?" asked a rather satiric sounding voice. Adrien rubbed his eye gently and looked around. There was no one in his room, he was alone. "Up here..." Adrien lifted his gaze up a bit higher, his bright green eye finding what could only be a hallucination. A small black cat hovered in the middle of the air, the tip of his minute tail flicking back and forth. The little cat came closer to the boy's face to help him see better. "So? Are you going to tell me what it is that happened to your face? Or am I to assume you got into a brawl at the local tavern and didn't exactly win?"  
  
"I... I've never been to a tavern before," Adrien answered quietly, hoping that no one would walk in and see him conversing with himself. "I was punished by my father for acting out of place, that's how I got these injuries."  
  
"Hm, well that's not an exciting story but at least you have some potential for rebellion." The floating black cat looked Adrien over, his vibrant green eyes darting around the room with their curiosity. "Where are we?"  
  
"We... we're in the castle but..." Adrien shook his head slightly trying to make sense of what was happening. "What is this you said about rebellion?"  
  
"Do you know who I am?" the little black cat smirked at the boy. Adrien shook his head. "I am a kwami. My name is Plagg. The ring you hold in your hands is an object of great power. Wear it and you will be transformed into one who can change the course of the future."  
  
"No ring could bear such power," Adrien protested against his delusion. Perhaps he should be concerned for his mental wellbeing? "You're nothing more than a hallucination, a dream my mind has conjured from the traumatic experience I endured yesterday. Yes, that is it. This ring holds no power. I must return this to Friar Fu. I am sure it will be missed."  
  
"I take serious offense to that!" Plagg called after Adrien as the boy stood and began walking towards the door. "I am not a figment of your imagination. I am very real, as is the power within the ring. This ring was left for you and you alone. Do you not wish to change the lives of the people of England for the better?" Adrien paused just before the door. "With this ring, you could change everything. You could set the world right but if you are too afraid to be the bearer of so much power, then perhaps it is for the best that you return the ring."  
  
"If I am not losing my mind; if this is all real, then how would one go about calling upon the power of the ring?" Adrien lifted the open box to inspect it more closely. It appeared to him as an ordinary silver ring. Could it truly carry a power strong enough to change everything?  
  
The sound of footsteps approaching drew Adrien out of his revelations. The blond-haired boy turned and rushed back to his bed, shoving the box beneath the blankets. The door opened and Adrien spun back to the door Gabriel standing with a prominent frown on his face. Neither of them said anything for a moment as Gabriel searched Adrien's room.  
  
"Where is the friar?" the king asked sounding as though he were on a mission. Adrien wasn't sure what had happened between now and the time his father first left his room but his demeanor had changed. A deadly fire flared in the man's eyes.  
  
"He's left already," before Adrien had finished speaking Gabriel closed the door and was off again. The boy's stomach dropped. Something bad was about to happen to Friar Fu, he could feel it.  
  
"If you wish to save Friar Fu," Plagg said coming out from his hiding place beneath the bed, "you now possess the power to stop this from happening."  
  
Diving his hand under his blankets, Adrien took the ring from the box and placed it on his right hand. Plagg was taken aback by the boy's sudden change of heart. 'This must be the reason he was chosen,' the kwami smirked.  
  
"How do I use the power within the ring?" Adrien's eagerness to save the friar made Plagg chuckle with excitement.  
  
"It is simple," the black cat floated close to Adrien's face, "the power within the ring is called upon by saying 'Cataclysm'. It is the power of destruction. It will destroy anything it touches so use it wisely. But before you can use that power you must be transformed. Now all you have to do is say 'Claws Out' and I will transform you."  
  
"What will I transform into?" the boy asked a little nervously.  
  
"You will become a more powerful version of yourself," Plagg said eagerly, visibly bouncing in the air. "You will become indestructible. You will be stronger and faster; able to leap up to the treetops and back down again, landing on your feet without hurting yourself! As long as you possess that ring you will be unstoppable by ordinary means!"  
  
"Plagg, Claws Out!" Adrien called to the kwami, holding his fist out for good measure.  
  
A shocking, tingling sensation washed over him. It was a feeling he could only describe as sharing many of the same qualities with static. A rush of power raged through him, making the boy feel invincible. A yellow-green light erupted around him. Adrien closed his good eye against the light but all at once it was over.  
  
Adrien's eyes - both of them - opened, peering down at his gloved hands. The tips of his fingers were clawed like a cat's paw and his clothes had changed as well. Knee-high black leather boots matched his elbow-high leather gloves, both were adorned with large, rounded, silver rivets.  
  
His simple cloth pants had been replaced with a deep grey pant made of a rough fabric he had no name for. The thick pants seemed durable, sturdy enough even to deflect a blade. Black leather belts crossed over his hips forming a long tail that trailed out behind him, ending in a silver buckle.  
  
His chest was covered by a deep, forest green shirt of a thinner fabric with loose sleeves that fell to the elbow. Beneath the green tunic was another shirt of the same deep gray color as his pants, they seemed to be the same material too. A black fitted leather vest with silver latches down the front and a black shoulder cape served as the top layer of his chest wear.  
  
Adrien caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above his bed. A golden bell hung proudly from the clasp of his cape at the base of his neck. A short bow and quiver were tied securely to his back. His hair was disheveled and sticking out wildly from beneath the hood of his cape. The hood had cat-ear-like protrusions coming from the top. Across his face was a black leather mask held to his skin by what could only be magic. However, the thing that struck Adrien the most was the startling appearance of his eyes.  
  
Normally such a soft, bright green, they had become something far more feral and dangerous. The eyes that looked back at him from the mirror were his own, the reflection of the beast within him that demanded justice for those whose voices would not be heard.  
  
A commotion outside drew him from his stunned observations. He flung open the windows and jumped on the sill, leaning out to see what was going on. It was then that the door behind him opened once again, this time a servant girl came in holding a tray of food.  
  
"Master Adri...en?" her eyes grew wide at the startling sight of the wild looking boy. "Who are you?! Where is Master Adrien?!"  
  
Adrien thought for a moment before responding:  
  
"The name is Feral Hood and from now on, Adrien shall be under my care."  
  
He winked at the girl and leaped from the window. Landing on his feet he took off running. The servant girl's screams for help echoed down from the window as he went. A wide grin spread over his face. He was free.  
  
"Stop that friar!" yelled one of the guards as Friar Fu attempted to escape the castle grounds. He knew he wasn't going to have long before he was captured. He prayed it was enough time for Adrien to discover his powers and come to his aid. As the holder of the turtle Miraculous, he could easily break out of a cell but he did not want to rely on his powers. At his age, he had a hard enough time transforming, let alone using his powers.  
  
Friar Fu looked back over his shoulder feeling his pursuers hot behind him. All at once, a black and green-clad boy came crashing into view, throwing his weight against the guards. The men toppled to the ground. The boy with feral eyes turned his gaze to the friar who's smile couldn't be broader.  
  
The outer gate portcullis fell with a loud crash to the ground, blocking their way forward. The inner portcullis fell, blocking their way back. Feral Hood stood looking around, wondering what to do. A hand found his arm. Friar Fu pointed to the outer portcullis.  
  
"Use your power to destroy the gate!"  
  
On instinct that Adrien wasn't entirely sure was his own, he pulled the bow from his back and a black arrow from the quiver. He thrust the arrow into the air above his head and shouted:  
  
"Cataclysm!"  
  
Guards started filing into the enclosure. Archers stood at the ready within the gatehouses, arrows nocked and waiting for the order to fire. If not for his new powers that made him feel limitless, he would have surrendered the fight before it had even begun.  
  
Feral Hood nocked his bow, aiming the black-shrouded arrow at the outer portcullis. He let it fly. The arrow struck true. The heavy wooden beams that made up the hefty gate decayed before their very eyes, turning the wood to coal and crumbling to the ground.   
  
The terrified guards scattered as the black hooded boy lifted the tiny friar into his arms and ran. His speed was unmatchable. He was gone before the guards could even begin to understand what had just taken place.  
  
Feral Hood ran for a long time, leaving the castle far behind. He would not go back to that place, not if he could help it. It wasn't until Friar Fu motioned for him to stop that he finally did so.  
  
Coming to a rest beside a stream that babbled joyfully between the trees, Feral Hood set the friar on the ground. It wasn't a moment later that the same yellow-green light from before enveloped him and he stood once again as Adrien. Friar Fu's jovial laughter brought a smile to Adrien's face, a laugh of his own on his lips.  
  
"The castle guards are probably still standing there scratching their heads!" Friar Fu chortled, leaning on his cane as he took a seat by the stream, leaning back against a tree. Adrien knelt next to him, so many questions on his mind he could hardly think of where to start.  
  
"Friar Fu," Adrien breathed in his astonishment. He turned the simple looking ring around his finger. "How is this even possible?! Never could I have ever imagined such a thing could exist! Where did you get this ring?" He thought for a moment, the power of the ring sinking in. "Why would you give something so powerful to a boy you hardly knew?"  
  
"Ah, yes," the friar sighed looking at Adrien with the familiar twinkle in his eye. "I suppose that is the only question that truly matters. I gave the Ring of Destruction to you because you were worthy of it. Only one with a heroic heart could bear the weight of such a power. This is the reasoning behind my questioning yestereve about your intentions behind your actions."  
  
"What if I had been lying to you about my intentions?" Adrien inquired. He found himself disputing whether the friar's methods were sound.  
  
"By that time, I had already seen such a heart in you when you stepped in for John Little and his wife." Friar Fu knelt forward and cupped his hands in the water of the stream, bringing them to his lips to drink. "What reason would you have had to lie to me?"  
  
Adrien leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees. He pondered his ring and the new power he possessed.  
  
"If you are not to return to the castle," the kindly friar said. He stood slowly, placing his weight on his cane, "do you think your father will seek you out? Perhaps it would be prudent to change your name? Otherwise, he may hear whispers of your whereabouts and come for you."  
  
"Change my name?" Adrien looked up at Friar Fu from where he sat. A cheery chirping sound from nearby drew his attention to a red-breasted bird singing and bouncing happily on a low hanging branch. The golden boy smiled at the bird who would be his namesake. "How about Robin? Robin... Longstride?"  
  
"Robin Longstride?" the friar repeated thoughtfully, nodding his head. "Yes, it is a good name."  
  
Robin Longstride stood with Friar Fu as the man walked deeper into the forest. He was unsure where this road would take him but he would follow it through to the end.


	6. Courage And Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autor's Note:
> 
> Sorry about the delay on this story. My dominant hand is broken and typing is rather hard at the moment. I am still working on it just give it some time. Thank you for understanding! :3

The old growth of the deep forest was unlike anything Robin had ever seen. The sun broke through the canopy, lighting the ground at random intervals. The ferns and undergrowth, the wildlife that scampered around the more dense foliage hiding in burrows and the nooks of trees; it was as though the forest had turned a curious eye upon him. Robin's own inquisitive gaze darted around from one rustling to another, eagerly searching for what he might find in this new place.

"Now that you are free," Friar Fu began as they continued farther into the woods. They broke through the treeline to find a well-worn path that would lead them deeper still. "Where do you plan to go?"

"I was just pondering that same thing..." Robin rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I was born in the castle. I had not ever been outside the town until today. I do not know of any place beyond the village."

"Hm, well, if the place is of no consequence to you," the friar said as they began down the beaten path, "this way will lead us to a fork in the road. If you go to the left you will find yourself in Nottingham. It is a small village with good people."

"And to the right?" Robin inquired.

"To the right is a road that leads on for days." Friar Fu shifted the weight of his rucksack over his shoulder. "With a stroke of luck, we should come to the parting of the road by midday."

A companionable silence fell between them as they continued down the path. Just as Friar Fu had said, they reached the parting of the ways nearing midday. Robin could have perhaps gotten there faster but his companion was not as youthful as he.

"We are going to the left, on to Nottingham, are we not?" Robin said when Friar Fu halted at the split in the road. The boy took a step toward the left path, his eyes glancing back at his friend.

"Yes, you are to go to Nottingham." The downcast set of the friar's features told Robin what he hadn't expected. "I'm afraid this is where I must leave you. I know that our paths will cross once again but I cannot follow you down that road."

"What?" Robin felt himself panic at the thought of going alone. His fears had been quiet until now. He had a companion who knew these roads where he knew nothing of the world past the castle walls. "What do you mean? Can I not accompany you instead?"

"I wish you could but the place I am going will be too easy for your father to find you. I must go there alone," Friar Fu gave the boy's arm a kindly pat, encouraging him to take his journey. "Do not be afraid. The first step alone is always the hardest one to take. Go to Nottingham and there you will find your strength and your courage. Until we meet again, Robin Longstride."

With that, Friar Fu turned to the right and started on his way. Robin looked down his own path still somewhat afraid to move. He glanced down at his bare feet, they were covered in more dust than they had ever been in his life. He had nothing but the simple clothes he'd been wearing when he left his quarters that morning. Could he really be alone in the world? How would he survive?

The boy's stomach gave a painful rumble. He hadn't eaten dinner yesternight or his breakfast that morning.

"Are you going to stand there forever?" a familiar voice crowed at him. Robin looked up to see the tiny black cat floating to his left. Relief flooded him. "I'm hungry too. Let us go to Nottingham and find ourselves some food!"

"R-right!" Robin shook his head and set his mind on finding his way to Nottingham. He took the first step and then the second, it was as Friar Fu had said. The first step did appear to be the hardest. "I don't know what it is you like to eat."

"I do love fermented foods but I have a profound love for any kind of cheese." Plagg hugged himself and spun in a circle. Robin laughed lightly at the thought of a cheese-loving cat.

"Cheese?" the boy exclaimed as he made his way on to the village. He felt a bit better knowing that Plagg was with him, though he was still not fully convinced he was really there. "How odd! A cat who likes cheese?"

"I do not like cheese," Plagg corrected. "I love cheese."

It wasn't another hour before Robin could see the first signs of the village in the distance. A modest-sized farm stood between him and the hamlet beyond. The fields were tilled but the land itself was more barren than not. How odd it seemed, to have a farm without crops this time of year.

A short distance ahead, a boy about his own age was attempting to reign in a goat that had escaped its pen. The nanny pulled defiantly against the rope the boy had tethered around her neck. Robin watched as the boy struggled against the doe's stubborn resistance until he came upon them.

"Would you like some help?" Robin suggested as the boy continued to strain himself. When the boy said nothing Robin turned his eyes from the goat to the boy who was standing staring wide-eyed at him. Robin looked around wondering if he had made some terrible error. Was it not acceptable to help another in matters concerning goats?

"It cannot be..." the boy whispered more to himself than to Robin. At that, the boy dropped the rope he'd been using to drag the nanny back to her pen and ran back towards the small barn.

Robin scratched his head trying to think of what he could have done wrong. The nanny waddled past him, the rope dragging behind her. She headed straight for the brambles at the edge of the forest. Robin followed behind her. Carefully collecting a few branches of the prickly berry bush, Robin took the rope and led the nanny back toward the house and the open pen.

By the time he got the goat back to the enclosure, the boy and a large man could be seen coming quickly across the field. Robin's hands shook slightly at the prospect of being chased from the town but he proceeded to coax the goat into the pen and closed the gate behind her. The blond-haired boy turned slowly to look at the two men with his good eye.

This time, it was Robin's turn to be shocked. There standing before him was John Little, the man he had saved from debt just the day before. The man looked at him as though beholding an angel of heaven.

"How is it that you are here?" the man's eyes misted slightly as he continued to look at Robin. "Your injuries should have you disabled. You should not be able to walk so freely as of yet."

"Y-you're John Little," Robin said feeling a bit sheepish. He hadn't known this was where the man lived. Perhaps this was why Friar Fu sent him this way? "The friar who tended to my wounds yesternight told me your name. It was considered a miracle that the cuts healed in one night. The friar said that he prayed for my healing."

"God be praised!" John Little cried out and lifted his hands into the air and he let out a booming laugh. "What is this if not proof that the Lord will never allow the innocent to suffer such a cruel fate?! Come, tell me your name!"

"Adri-Robin!" Robin corrected himself though he was certain that the man and his son noticed the slip-up. "Robin Longstride is my name."

"Hm, that is a good name." Robin expected the man to press him for the truth but something in the man's eyes told the boy that he understood. It was then that Robin's stomach growled quite loudly in reminder. John laughed again and clapped a hand on Robin's shoulder. He winced. "We do not have much but what we do have we will share with you. Come! I will have my wife prepare a meal!"

"I do not wish to intrude! I did not come here to take advantage of your kindness," Robin said, though the offer of food was quite tempting.

"Do not reject me, Robin," John Little said in a stern seriousness. "You did my family a kindness that we can never hope to repay. You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish."

"I suppose I cannot turn you down then," Robin said with a small laugh still feeling a bit shy. Truly, growing up with only his father for companionship had ruined him from ever making normal conversation.

The small house was growing hot in the heat of the day but Robin found he liked this place. The wooden walls and thatched roof felt far more welcoming than the cold, stone castle with its impossibly high ceilings that could make you feel lost even in the smallest rooms. Coals burned low on the hearth, as John's wife prepared them a midday meal. Robin sat at the small table with the other two men waiting patiently for the promised meal.

"So, tell me, Robin," John Little began, still watching Robin with a sunny disposition. "I have the acquaintance of everyone in Nottingham, so I know you are only passing through. What village do you call home?"

"Home?" Robin swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Surely he couldn't tell these good people the truth, that would not bode well for any of them. "I-I... I do not have a home. I am a drifter."

"But your clothes!" John's wife interrupted. "Yesterday, you were dressed so finely! You were already within the ward when we were taken into the castle grounds. You cannot be a drifter with such fine clothes."

"W-well, you see, I was... um," Robin thought quickly trying to come up with some way of explaining it all away without telling them the truth.

"And yesternight when I carried you back to the castle," the boy said from beside Robin, "the king himself waited there for us saying that you were precious to him."

"Greta! Little John!" John said loudly to quiet them. "If the boy does not wish to speak of his past then it is not your place to pry!"

"It is alright," Robin said meekly and John let himself settle back into his seat. "I suppose I could tell you some of who I am... Until this morning, I lived within the castle. Over the years I have seen the suffering of the people though not to it's truest extent as the view through my window was limited. The king kept me well inside the walls saying that no one beyond them held any love for one such as me. Perhaps yesterday I was of noble birth but today I am no one. Please do not tell anyone this. I wish to leave my past far behind me."

"As you wish," John said though the robust smile he'd had before faded into something more quizzical. "Might I ask you but one question?"

"I suppose..." Robin felt the heat rising under his collar.

"Why did the king tell you that there would be none who would love you?" Robin ducked his head and his hands gripped tightly to the seat of the stool he sat on.

"B-because my mother was French..." Robin practically whispered. His shoulders came up to his ears as he ducked his head fearing that they would throw him from their home. Instead, the large man only laughed, as did his wife and son.

"And this is the reason you were hidden away?" John clapped Robin on the shoulder making the boy wince. John removed his hand and rubbed the back of his neck with an apology on his lips. "Here in Nottingham, there be a noble family with strong ties to the throne who happen to be half French. They are also the kindest and most generous people you could ever hope to meet. The Lord of the house left for the crusades and has never returned but the Lady of the house and her daughter still live on the land. They care for the poor and the sick and the needy as best they can. The whole village is better for having them. You cannot come to Nottingham without making their acquaintance!"

"What is the name of their house?" Robin asked. Perhaps he would go and visit them if ever he found himself in need.

"Loxley," said Little John with a small smile on his face. "Madame Loxley and her daughter Maiden Marinette live on the other side of Nottingham from here. If you head into the village you cannot miss the large estate on the hill."

"The estate on the hill?" came a new voice from behind Robin. Everyone turned to see a young woman standing in the doorway, a woven basket in her arms. Her bright blue eyes enthralled Robin and he couldn't look away. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about my mother and me?"

"Maiden Marinette!" Little John practically shouted from beside Robin shocking the boy back into his mind. "We were just telling Robin of your family's kindness!"

The girl's vivacious sounding giggle made Robin's head feel light as though he were floating. Never had he seen or heard anyone so beautiful in his life. He stood from the stool from where he had been sitting.

Suddenly, Robin became very aware of his appearance, wearing only knee pants and a simple white nightshirt that hung loosely over him. The collar of the shirt was so wide nearly both shoulders could fit through the opening. Not to mention, he could not believe he was greeting a lady while lacking proper footwear. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and he turned his swollen eye away from her as her gaze burned into him like a hot iron. Robin could not even speak his name in greeting.

"Is this him then?" Marinette asked as she stepped inside. Her eyes assessed him, not missing the lash marks that crossed over his shoulders and the bruising of his face. She stepped forward and gave him a small curtsy. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Sir Robin."

"Th-the pleasure is mine I-I assure you," Robin barely managed to stammer before giving her a stiff and slightly awkward bow in return. She smiled at him kindly and turned her attention to Greta as Little John left the room to speak with someone outside.

"I brought the new clothes for your daughter," Marinette said holding out the basket. "I hope they fit her well."

"You make them perfect every time miss," Greta said pulling two small dresses from the basket. "I truly cannot thank you enough!"

"Greta," Marinette said in a worried tone. John watched Robin from where he still sat at the table but the boy didn't notice, his attention was stolen by the beautiful girl with midnight hair. "I heard about what happened yesterday. Is everything alright? How did you get away?"

"We didn't get away," Greta's eyes moistened as she looked over at Robin. Marinette's eyes followed Greta's gaze to the golden boy. "We were rescued by an angel."

"What?" the maiden seemed confused. The color in Robin's cheeks deepened. "Who are we talking about?"

"Robin of course! Never before has there been a boy with such courage and strength!" John cheered from the table. Robin's face reddened further.

"I would hardly call it courage or strength," Robin said, his eyes downcast. "I could not help but cower in fear on the floor and that is not what most would call brave."

"You are right," John said scratching his chin. "One who only cowers in fear is not a brave soul. But you did not simply cower in fear as I was beaten. No, you took near twice the beating in my stead! You released me and my family from debt. You stood against the king himself and you came out victorious! You are not just brave, you are a hero."

"I'm sorry," Robin said feeling suddenly very out of place. He panicked. Never had anyone praised him in such a way before. He didn't know how to respond, he felt trapped. "I... Please excuse me!"

Robin turned on heel and headed out the door leaving the people inside feeling rather confused. He rushed past Little John just outside the door who had been conversing with a girl who had tawny eyes and auburn hair.

Perhaps it was childish but he could not help it. Robin ran through the barren field and into the forest nearest the house. The delicate skin of his feet made him slow as he trod heavily on a series of rocks and branches.

He had never intended on finding the Little family. Simply being with them had caused him some deal of anxiety. Being praised as a hero and called an angel; it was all lies. He never intended to set himself up to appear as more than what he was; a coward, an unloved bastard. What they were saying about him was false. His acts were not born from a heroic heart but of compassion and desperation.

Robin had never done anything in his life to make him worthy of being hailed as a hero. Nor did he possess the qualities of one. He had no courage. He had no strength.


	7. A Place To Call Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something you might not know!  
> *Trencher: a medieval slab of bread served with almost every meal in place of bowls and plates. Basically, it's just a bread bowl.
> 
> The reason I chose to call her Maiden Marinette instead of Maid Marinette is simple. "Maid" often refers to a woman who is a bit older and a "Maiden" is a young unmarried and innocent girl.

 

"Sire! Sire!" the maid called as she came bursting into the throne room. Gabriel stood pacing at the top of the steps leading to the over-glorified chair. The fury in the king's eyes did little to quell the girl's cries as she came to a stop crumbling before the steps to the throne. "Sire! Master Adrien is gone!"

"WHAT?!" Gabriel cried so loudly the echo that resounded drew the room to a dead silence, even the servant girl quieted herself. "What did you just say?!"

"Master Adrien is gone, yer Majesty," she started, her panic taking hold again. "A-A boy wearing a black mask was in his room with eyes like a beast! Called himself Feral Hood, Sire! Said he's taken Master Adrien away!"

Before Gabriel could speak a single word, the doors to the throne room opened again and the Captain of the Guard stumbled inside, absolute panic written all over his face. The man gasped for breath as he rushed to the front of the room gripping his chest.

"My K-King!" the man wheezed as through air were in short supply. "The... The Friar! We 'ad 'im surrounded, Sire! Then out o' nowhere, a boy with eyes like none I ever seen come runnin' in and took 'im away! 'E destroyed the outer portcullis! With not but a single arrow, Sire! I never seen nothin' o' the sort in all my life!"

"The boy with interesting eyes, was he wearing a black mask?!" Gabriel demanded as he tromped down the steps to come face to face with the Captain. The man looked too scared to answer, seeing the mounting rage on the king's face. "WELL?! WAS HE?!"

"Y-y-yessir!" the man ducked his head and shied away from the beastly king.

"Where is he?!" Gabriel demanded but his question was left unanswered. He grabbed the guard by the collar and shook him roughly. "You're men pursued him, yes?! Has he been captured?! WHERE IS HE?!"

The man cowering before the king truly was too frightened to even shake his head in response this time. He and his men had never witnessed anything like the wild looking boy before in their lives. None had been brave enough to give chase. The Captain knew that speaking such out loud was most likely enough to have himself and his whole family killed for disloyalty.

"YOU COWARD!" Gabriel shoved the man so hard he fell to the floor. "You will find no rest until you have brought Adrien home! No one will rest until someone brings me the heads of Friar Fu and Feral Hood!"

"What are you doing?!" Plagg protested flitting out in front of the distraught boy. "You were about to get food and I haven't eaten yet! You cannot use my powers again until I have been fed!"

"I-I... I'm sorry!" Robin cried finally stopping at the edge of a wide yet shallow river that split the forest. He took a seat on a large stone at the water's edge. "I became overwhelmed. I could not stand there and listen to them praise me in such a manner!"

"And why shouldn't they?" Plagg chided him. "Is it true that you stepped in and saved their family from debt and worse?"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose..." Robin confessed after a moment. "But it is not like I set out to do so! I just... I could not stop myself from stepping in when the sheriff began tearing John Little from his family right in front of me! I had hoped that they would escape the town and never return after I bluffed my way through it all. Yet when my father called me to the throne room where he was to have John Little flogged for what I had done..."

Robin went quiet hugging his knees to his face. The tender skin of his back throbbed somewhat as he felt his emotions get the better of him. The boy gritted his teeth as his eyes moistened. He would not cry.

"You look at this situation and see nothing heroic about it," Plagg sighed coming to rest on the rock beside the distressed boy. "You think that the actions you took were not valorous by nature. However," Plagg continued, looking up at Robin where he sat still curled in on himself, "some of the most intrepid of hearts started out acting on nothing but their own desperation. It was not until they began to see themselves through the eyes of others that they became who they were meant to be."

"What are you saying?" Robin sniffed. Still hiding his face, he cursed his nose for giving him away.

"I am simply suggesting," Plagg floated up and rested himself on the boy's head, "perhaps you should take a moment and look at yourself through the eyes of the ones you saved? It may help you to find who you are... beyond being a devilishly handsome French bastard."

Robin chuckled lightly at that, finally lifting his head and calming himself. Perhaps his tiny cat friend had a point. Anyone could have done what he had done, yet so few would have actually committed to something such as that for one they did not even know. Was it really possible that he could have a hero's heart?

He groaned as he looked down at his feet. There were a few broken stickers caught in his flesh that needed to be removed. Perhaps running blindly through the forest barefoot with thistle weed around hadn't been the best of ideas. The sharp leaves of the deadly looking flower had scathed his legs asunder. Lines of scratches formed droplets of blood on his skin, some even drawing enough blood to create tiny runnels down his legs.

He stepped down into the fridged water, allowing the cold to numb his legs before he removed the thorns from his flesh. As he pried the last of the cursed bits of thorn and stickers from his skin, a branch snapped somewhere not too far and a voice called his name.

"Robin?" came the voice again. Plagg zipped out of sight under Robin's long shirt. The boy stood, peering in the direction of the one who called. "Robin where are you?"

"I... I am here," he called back recognizing the voice as Little John. The tan-skinned boy came around the large rock Robin had been sitting on, his amber eyes looking at him in concern.

"Robin?" he said again only to punctuate his worry. "What happened? Why did you run off?"

"Forgive me," Robin felt the heat in his cheeks flare like a fire to dry grass. "I... I did not mean to worry you. I have... never been spoken of so highly before. I did not know what to do and acted out as a scared child."

"I understand," Little John smiled kindly at the boy before him. "I am sorry my parents made you uncomfortable by singing your praises as one who can do no wrong. I cannot blame them entirely though. My father was so certain he was to be arrested for being unable to pay our debt. You see, he was gone for nearly ten years fighting in the crusades. He departed when I was just a boy, leaving my mother and me to tend the fields on our own."

"We did our best and kept track of tax paid but last two years there was a plague in the crops and they had to be destroyed. We could not grow enough and the tax grew higher and we could not pay, so the sheriff took everything we had," Little John continued, leaning himself more fully against the stone boulder. "My father came home from war not but a fortnight ago and was expected to pay his family's debt to the crown."

"I do not mean to make you feel any sorrow for my family's plight," Little John shrugged, noticing the look on Robin's face. "I thought that if you knew, perhaps you would better understand my parents. Life was never truly kind to us until you came to our rescue. We all owe you a great debt of gratitude." Robin swallowed hard at the emotions that seemed to gather in his throat like a lump. After a moment's silence, Little John added, "My mother has likely finished our meal by now, will you not come back and eat with us?"

"Ye... yes, I will join you, thank you." Robin followed the boy through the trees carefully avoiding the thistle with his feet this time.

As they crossed the field Robin saw John standing at the side of the house watching for them. When he saw them approach, he waved them inside before disappearing around the side of the house. The two boys followed the large man inside. By the hearth, a young girl twirled in one of her new dresses, showing John and Greta how delightfully the skirt flowed.

"My new dresses are the prettiest ever!" the little girl sang as she twirled again making herself dizzy. She stumbled sideways into Robin who knelt down and steadied her gently.

"You are very pretty, just like a princess," he smiled at her. The little girl's grey eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. "It would be a shame to stumble and get dust on your new gown, don't you agree?" the little girl nodded slowly, her doe-eyes watching him unblinkingly. "What is your name, little princess?"

"Her name is Noel. She is my cousin," Little John said after the girl failed to find her words. She hid her blushing face in her hands and gave a small squeal of glee. Little John laughed as he stepped around the girl. "Looks as though Noel has found herself a charming prince!"

"I haven't!" Noel cried in a tiny fury. She struck out at Little John's legs only making the boy laugh harder.

"Robin," John sighed from where he sat at the table. Robin passed by the little girl and stood, feeling abashed at the opposite side of the table from the imposing man. "Forgive my wife and me, we perhaps became overzealous in our admiration of you. We did not intend to embarrass you in front of the Maiden."

Robin's cheeks flared at the mention of Marinette. Was it truly so obvious what he thought of her? The blush on his cheeks and the taken aback look on his face caused John to laugh out loud.

"Do not be surprised," John said as his wife served the stew into a rye trencher and placed it on the table. "Every young man in Nottingham has had his eye on her at some point or another according to Nino... I mean Little John." The large man rubbed the back of his neck and apologized to his son. "It's a nickname of his from when he was young. I must get used to how he has outgrown it."

"Enough talk," Greta said taking her place at the table. "let us eat and forget what is in the past."

Robin sneaked food under the table to feed to a certain magical black cat as inconspicuously as he could. Part way through the meal Noel had become restless and wriggled free from Greta's lap. The little girl coming to stand next to Robin a hopeful twinkle in her eye.

"Do you need something?" he asked her as she rocked her shoulders back and forth playfully. Without asking, the little girl climbed onto Robin's lap, startling him somewhat. She put her small hands on his cheeks.

"Why is your eye like that?" she asked curiously. Her innocent inquiry catching Robin entirely off guard. He wasn't sure what to say at first but recovered quickly with a smile.

"I traveled far and wide in search of the most beautiful princess," he started, nodding his head as he continued. "I had to fight a beast in the forest to make my way here!"

"A beast!" she cried, her eyes widening. "Like a bear?!"

"Yes! A big bear!" Robin saw the hint of fear in her eyes then added. "Do not be afraid, fair princess. I defeated the bear with my own hands! He will never trouble anyone again."

She gasped and then giggled turning to sit on Robin's lap, kicking her feet under the table. The others at the table laughed lightly at Robin's deviation of the truth. It was perhaps better that one so young not know of such cruelty.

As the sun began to set that day, Robin helped John and his son with the chores as best he could despite their protests, telling him to go inside for rest and healing. Robin refused, insisting that he would not be a guest in their home unless he was allowed to help.

He knew nothing of how to farm. It became painfully aware that he was only getting in their way but the men were patient with him, showing him how things were supposed to be done. Robin looked out at the field where the crops should have been showing themselves through the earth. Nothing grew in the ground except in the small patch nearest the house.

"What happened to the rest of your crops?" Robin asked motioning from the small garden to the barren field. Little John sighed heavily, rubbing his neck in exasperation.

"You remember that I told you our crops had the plague these last two years?" The boy was visibly crestfallen. "These are the starts of all the grain I was able to find. It was not even I who found that bag of grain. Madame Loxley and the Maiden gave it to us. It wasn't much but it was more than I had hoped to sow this year."

Robin laid on the dirt floor that night, his mind trying to comprehend the troubles of the Little family. How could they have such a simple life and yet be willing to share what few modest things they have with him? Was it wrong of him to stay here despite their insistence?

Robin sighed as he rolled onto his other side, still afraid to rest on his tender back. He knew his father would search for him. He could not stay with these kind people lest he put them in danger again. He fell asleep that night, his mind having been made.

The morning came and the Little's were up with the sun. Robin had perhaps been a might pampered in his upbringing, never having had a wake-up call unless he was still resting by breakfast. He parted his eyes groggily as Little John stepped over him from his place on the cot against the wall.

"You should have taken the cot when I offered it to you," Little John laughed at Robin's bleary-eyed expression. The boy groaned and rolled onto his stomach. "I can't imagine the floor was comfortable at all."

"I will not put you out of your own bed," Robin yawned and stretched, sitting up from the floor. His clothes were dusty and he felt as though he could do with a bath.

"Good morning!" John practically sang as he pulled on his shoes. He was very obviously a morning person. "How did you two rest? Well, I hope!"

"Sir," Robin started, rubbing his still swollen eye gently to wipe the sleep away. "I truly appreciate that you have put me up for the night but I cannot stay any longer. I must be on my way."

"Are you certain?" John said coming to stand before the boy his jovial mood lessening slightly at the news. "Why must you go so soon?"

"Forgive me for not saying as much sooner but the longer I stay with your family, the more people who see me with you, the more danger you are in," Robin admitted looking at the ground. "I must be on my way."

"Danger?" the man stroked his chin in thought. "From what you told us yesterday, I can only imagine that the king did not release you from the keep. I also imagine the king would be rather distraught to find you missing from the castle. You think he will come looking for you?"

"Most certainly," Robin said feeling the pressure to leave beginning to mount. "He will not be kind to any who have harbored me. Especially if he finds that I was here."

"Hm, I see..." John looked out the small window thoughtfully before clapping his hands together, startling both boys. "That is it then! If you must find a place to disappear, then I know of just the place for you to do so! Follow me, I will take you where none will ever find you."

"Where are we going, da?" Little John asked after they had crossed the river Robin had found himself at the day before. The man did nothing but wave the two boys onward as he lead them still deeper into the forest. At long last, John motioned for Robin to move ahead of him through the thicket. He held aside the low hanging branches for the two boys to make their way through into the small clearing beyond.

Robin was somewhat surprised to see the small stone structure that sat to one side of the clearing. It was a stone cabin, the thatched roof and wooden door had long since deteriorated but the walls still stood strong. The vines that covered the outside of the tiny house made it seem as though the forest were attempting to reclaim the stone. Is this where John had been leading them?

"This was an old cottage my father used to take me when I was a boy," John said looking around the place with a nostalgic twinkling in his eye. "We used it for hunting until it became illegal to hunt in the king's forest. It has sat here, forgotten ever since. I think perhaps it is time that it was of use to someone again."

John set down the sack of items he had brought with him, including several tools that would come in handy to repair the cottage. Robin and Little John gathered tall grasses from the clearing and water reeds from the nearby creek, weaving and tying bundles together to create the thatching for the roof. John made short work of selecting a tall straight tree, chopping it down and cutting it to the size he needed for the main beam of the roof. The day was long and the work, hard yet fulfilling.

With a length of rope, and the strength of the large man and the two boys combined, they were able to hoist the beam into place and secure the thatching to it. The inside of the house had been cleared of the rotted roof that had collapsed inward some years ago. The cobwebs were dusted away and a makeshift broom was used to push the last of the debris from the modest-sized one-room home.

The fallen roof had hidden the hearth from view when they first started. Yet as they cleaned Robin began to see more and more potential within the structure. Could this really be his house?

"A door is still needed and you might wish for coverings to keep any animals from coming through your windows at night but..." John sighed as he hefted the sack of tools over his shoulder, admiring their hard work. "This will be a good home for you."

Robin stood looking at his new house, his words escaping him as he took in the sight. It was quaint, it was secluded, it was his, it was perfect. After several seconds of silence, John added:

"I know it is a far fetch from the lofty castle you grew up in but I hope it will do."

Robin looked up at the man suddenly, realizing that John had misread his silence. He shook his head emphatically.

"No, no, you misunderstand!" Robin stepped toward the house, inspecting it further. "It is wonderful! I... I have never had anything that was truly my own. I am speechless, sir. I do not know what to say. You have made it so that I do not have to live on the streets or spend my life running. I cannot thank you enough!"

"And you made it so that I could live my life freely with my family by my side!" John's voice boomed with laughter. "I do have one last thing to give you before we make our way home." The man walked along the side of the house and picked up something Robin recognized instantly. "I found it in the rubbish as we cleaned. It is old and perhaps a bit worse for wear but once it has been restrung, it ought to serve you well. Have you ever used a bow before?"

"Yessir," Robin said stepping forward and taking the sturdy bow in his hands. It needed a new string and he would have to make arrows, but the bow was still in fine condition. "I am not skilled at many things that anyone would consider useful outside the royal court but archery is one skill I do possess."

"Then I pray you never miss!" John's wide grin suited him, Robin thought, smiling back.

"If ever you need anything at all," Little John said with a smile that matched his father's, "you can always call on us. Mayhaps I will come to visit you when I can, so you are not so secluded."

Though he was thrilled to have a place to call home, that night, Robin stoked the fire in the hearth feeling quite alone. There was an eerie mist that befell the forest at night. It reminded Robin of the old fairytales his nursemaid would tell him as a boy, of spirits, fairies, and all manner of dark beasts that sought to lure unruly children away and devour them in the gloom of night. He hugged his legs a bit closer to his chest. He spent a long time hearing every snapping twig, every flapping of wings, every haunting cry that split the night.

Yes, he was happy to have a home of his own, but he felt quite certain he would get no rest this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Does Adrien need to be MORE endearing?"  
> "Yes..."  
> "Okay, but how?"  
> "Make him interact with a little girl. Make him call her 'little princess' and the whole world will swoon."  
> "PERFECT!"  
> "And make him fight a bear!"  
> "Wait, what? How does that make him endearing?"  
> *shrugs* "It doesn't. I just want him to fight a bear."
> 
> "...
> 
> ...
> 
> okay."


	8. Introductions

His eyes tracked movements in the dark of the night. Never before had his eyes ever seen so much in so little light. Feral wondered if this was how cats had always seen the world. It was fascinating being able to see in the dark. The boy wandered quietly through the village of Nottingham, taking in the sights and smells.

Robin hadn't been able to rest at ease in his secluded cottage and by Plagg's suggestion, he transformed. The kwami insisted that Robin needed to truly experience being Feral Hood, taking his time to see and feel and breathe in his new skin. He agreed, admitting to being quite curious about his new powers.

Feral had not expected to run into anyone so late but he had a close call as he passed the local tavern. Despite the late hour, there were many people inside drinking and enjoying other forms of entertainment. One of the patrons of the establishment stumbled through the entrance and ran straight into Feral Hood. The man had blinked slowly several times then looked down at his drink. Feral had to stifle his laughter as the man appeared to be contemplating what exactly it was he was drinking.

Feral had taken advantage of the man's utter confusion, slipping into the shadows before he looked up again. Making his way down the road, he felt the village grow quiet with sleep. A jailhouse stood ominously in the center of the village, across the street were a row of stalls that Feral could only guess was the daytime marketplace. He smiled as he passed the tiny church, its steeple standing high, the spire pointing heavenward. He wondered if Friar Fu would ever serve there. He prayed that the little man was well and safe wherever his road had led.

The sun began to rise as Feral Hood found himself at the front gate of a large estate that sat atop the hill. This had to be the home of Madame Loxley and her daughter, Marinette. He looked up at the house, part of him was hoping to see the beautiful raven-haired beauty through one of the windows but he quickly dismissed the idea. She was noble, she was not likely to be awake for another hour or two. The maidservants would do the morning chores and she would be tended to once her breakfast was served. At least, that was how it worked in the castle. Was it the same for all nobles? Or was that only how things had worked for him?

So deep in thought was he that he had not heard the steps of the one who approached him until it was too late to hide. He looked back over his shoulder to see the same girl that Little John had been speaking to the other day. The look of utter surprise on her face was undeniable.

Feral stepped to the side and opened the gate for the girl. She didn't move. He swallowed hard before he spoke, "Forgive me, Miss, I got lost and ended up here. I shall be on my way now."

Feral walked past the girl feeling a tightness in his chest that made his arms tense rigidly at his sides. He had expected her to run or scream for help as the servant girl from the castle had done but she did not. Several steps down the path he chanced a glance back over his shoulder. She was staring at him.

"What is your name, boy?" she inquired sounding more eager and inquisitive than fearful. The girl was a curious one.

"My name?" Feral repeated after a second. "My name is my own. Yet you may call me Feral Hood. What is your name, Miss?"

"Feral Hood?" the girl repaid more to herself than anything before turning back to him with a smile. "My name is Alya. You have quite an interesting name. How did you come by it?"

"It is a name I gave to myself." Feral eyed the girl. Only having just met, he could tell her mind was good at deduction. It would be prudent for him to leave before too many questions were asked and she found out too much. "Excuse me, Miss Alya, I have somewhere I must be."

"A moment ago you were lost!" she cried out after him trying to keep him from leaving. "Yet now you are in a hurry?"

"Yes, I must be going," Robin said still walking away. To his dismay, Alya trotted to catch up to him.

"And where are you going?" Alya's excited eyes watched him as they walked back down the path that led to the heart of the village.

"I do not mean to be rude," Feral said with a smile that felt a bit tense. "but I cannot tell you."

"Why not?!" her excitement only grew the more evasive he became. "Why do your eyes look like that? Why did you name yourself Feral Hood? Why not something like Cat Eye or Dark Hood or Black Cat?"

"I do not know why my eyes look as they do," Feral walked a bit faster, trying to lose the girl as they neared the foot of the hill. "I like Feral Hood. It is descriptive without being entirely obvious. And I am sorry but I must be going. My business is my own, I do not wish to answer any more questions. Farewell Miss Alya!"

With a powerful leap that seemed so effortless, Feral jumped to the roof of a nearby building. He heard Alya behind him gasp in amazement. Her final question rang out as she called after him:

"How did you do that?!"

He laughed a little to himself as he ran into the forest, making his way home. Feral felt a bit nervous but it couldn't be helped now. He had been seen before he felt ready to be seen. His thoughts circled around back to Alya every time he tried to think on something else. She would not tell anyone of him, would she? He kicked himself mentally. He should have told her not to speak of him. Then again, how could he be certain that she would keep any promise she made him? Her enthusiasm over his name, appearance and ability was not something he believed to be containable... or was it?

Feral turned back into Robin some way into the trees just beyond the Little Farm. Robin walked through the trees back towards the fields still damp with morning dew. Little John and his father were tending the fields and feeding the nanny who was repeatedly butting her head against the post she was tethered to. Upon seeing Robin approach, Little John waved, a grand smile on his face.

"Have you ever milked a goat?" Little John asked with a mischevious look in his eyes.

"I cannot say that I have," Robin said nervously, hoping he would not be asked to do so. It was not that he thought it beneath him to milk a goat but somehow the whole thing seemed so improper.

"Would you like to learn?" the boy stood from the short stool he had been seated on and stretched his legs.

"A-actually!" Robin said quickly turning the conversation away from the subject of milking goats. "I was hoping you might be able to introduce me to Alya."

Little John's grin slipped off his face and his brow furrowed slightly. If he did not know better, Robin would have said the boy looked angry.

"Why are you so interested in Alya?" Little John crossed his arms over his chest. Robin's eye grew slightly as he realized that Little John was, in fact, being defensive.

"I..." Robin tried to find the right words. Nothing particularly clever came to him. "A friend came to me this morning and told me that Alya saw something that she should not have seen. He asked that I go to her and tell her not to speak of it but I do not know her personally. So, I thought that you could introduce me to her since you seemed to know her well the other day. Please, Little John, we must hurry."

"W-what?" Little John scratched his head trying to make sense of the words Robin had rambled at him too quickly. "You need me to introduce you to Alya... for a friend?"

"Yes." Robin nodded his head eagerly.

"Did you sleep last night?" Little John asked noticing the bags under Robin's eyes. "You were not visited by a spirit in the forest during the night were you?"

"No, no!" Robin said a little impatiently. "I mean, I did not sleep but that is not important. Please, we must be on our way! Trust me!"

"What is this?" John said coming up to the boys from his own work.

"Da," Little John said slowly as though he were trying to remember what it was that Robin had said. "Robin needs me to... introduce him to Alya... because a friend of his... saw something?"

"A friend of mine came to me just a few minutes ago and told me that Alya saw something she shouldn't have," Robin told John quickly, amending his friend's words. "He asked me to go to Alya and tell her not to speak of it. Doing so will keep her safe and my friend can maintain his secret."

"Hm..." John scratched his chin, looking into Robin's eyes. There must have been something there to convince him because the man turned to his son and told him, "Little John, take Robin to Alya. Quickly now, do not delay."

"I do not understand what is happening exactly but alright," Little John waved Robin to follow him and off they went.

As they made their way through the sleepy hamlet Robin saw the stirrings of life as many began to wake for the day. As they approached the center of the village where the jailhouse stood, Robin grew increasingly anxious. He did not know whether the Sheriff was searching for a blond-haired green-eyed boy but he did not want to find out.

They passed the chapel and headed up the dirt path that led to the home of Marinette Loxley. Little John had noticed his friend's increasing uneasiness the closer to the estate they came. Robin visibly bounced as he walked, his interlocked fingers twisting against themselves in anticipation. The boy was going through all the different ways he could try to convince Alya to keep Feral Hood a secret.

The boys stepped past the gate and into the yard. A girl could be heard talking excitedly from the animal house to the right of the main estate. Robin couldn't make out what the girl was saying but knew it had to be Alya. Little John crossed the yard to the coop, confirming Robin's suspicion. He knocked on the door before stepping inside, Robin felt his legs freeze in place outside the coop. He had had all this time to think of what to say to the girl but now that he was here, nothing came to him.

"Little John? What are you doing here?" Alya's voice called and Robin saw the girl come up to greet him, a basket of eggs in her hands. Before Little John could say anything the girl continued. "You will not believe what it is I saw this morning!" Robin felt the color leave his face. "I saw a boy with eyes like a cat who could jump as high as to land on the roof of a house! He called himself-"

"Feral Hood," Robin said stepping into the small barn. The girl almost dropped the basket of eggs, she hadn't even noticed Robin just outside the door. Little John looked back at Robin a bemused look on his face.

"Alya," Little John said stepping aside and waving Robin inside, "this is my friend Robin. He said he had something he needed to speak with you about."

"Forgive me, I know it is a bit strange that I need to speak with you when we have never been properly introduced." Robin felt her eyes taking in every detail of his face. His mussed blond hair and vivid green eyes would not give him away to her... would they? His swollen eye had begun to open again if only a sliver. Would the sight of his wounded eye be enough to deter her from drawing any conclusions that tied him to Feral Hood?

"Perhaps it is," she agreed, shrugging off whatever it was she had been thinking of much to Robin's relief. "So, you know of Feral Hood as well?"

"Aye," Robin confirmed tentatively, nodding his head. "He is the one who sent me here to speak with you."

"He... sent you?" Alya cocked her head a curious twinkle in her eye. "You know him well enough that he would turn to you? Perhaps you could answer some questions for me then!"

"N-no, please!" Robin interjected quickly before she could continue. "I came here by his request to ask you to please not speak of him. It is quite dangerous for you to know of him! The king... he searches for Feral Hood. If word got out that you knew of him, you could be in danger."

"Why does the king search for him?" Alya asked. Robin was treading dangerously close to the truth but he had no choice.

"Feral Hood is the one who aided me in escaping the castle." Robin crossed his arms over his chest. Alya opened her mouth to ask yet another question but she was interrupted.

"So you mean to say," Marinette said from beside them making Robin jump, he hadn't seen her there, "this boy, Feral Hood, he is real?"

"H-he is," Robin cursed himself for stammering, holding his arms more tightly against his chest.

"Even how his eyes are bright green like a cat's eyes?" she asked, her head tilting ever so slightly in question. Robin nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak quite yet. "What about his ability to jump to the roof of a house in one leap? Surely that cannot be true."

"I was being kept in the third story of the castle," Robin said finally getting his nerves under control. "Feral jumped up to my window and took me down to the ground in the same manner. He is faster and stronger than the average man and by my own eyes, I know that he has the power of destruction at his fingertips. With a single word, he destroyed the outer portcullis of the castle gates so we could escape."

"What?!" Alya cried sounding as though she had been cheated in her meeting with the hooded boy.

"Alya has spent the whole morning trying to convince me of Feral Hood's existence, to no avail," Marinette said still watching Robin quizzically. "And here you come with an even more unbelievable story of the same boy yet I feel inclined to believe you. Alya," Marinette turned to her friend, "we mustn't speak of Feral Hood to anyone. He must remain a secret between the four of us. If it is as Robin says, simply knowing him could bring the king's ire down upon our families."

"Yes, my lady," Alya said bowing her head in accord. "I shall not speak of him to anyone else."

"Same with you Little John?" Marinette said making sure their secret would remain as such. Little John nodded.

"I am still not sure that I fully understand what is happening but I will not speak of it." Little John looked from his friend to Alya then back again.

"Very good!" Marinette sang and walked past Robin through the door. "Come inside for breakfast, won't you?"

"Thank you!" Little John said eagerly following Alya out into the yard. "I am starved!"

"I do not wish to intrude," Robin said feeling a bit awkward at the back of the group. "I did not come here to beg. I wouldn't want to put your family out for feeding me. I shall go home."

Before Robin could say his farewells, the three began to laugh. He felt his ears grow hot with embarrassment. He was unsure why he seemed unable to partake in any conversation for long before everyone burst into laughter at his expense. Was he truly so awkward in conversation?

"You will not be putting my mother and I out just for one breakfast," Marinette chimed as she came up beside him and took his arm. Robin's cheeks dusted pink at her touch. "Please won't you join us?"

"I-if you insist," Robin said allowing himself to be led into the large house.

The smell of baking bread wafted around him as the door opened and he stepped inside. The high ceilings did not lessen the heat of the fire in the hearth. Marinette led them to a table and bade them sit. The girls entered the kitchen where the smell of food was emanating, leaving the boys to talk amongst themselves.

"So, was Feral Hood truly the only reason you wished to meet Alya?" Little John said rather quietly, his voice just above a whisper. "There was no other reason?"

"Well, she is your friend, is she not?" Robin smiled at Little John. "I wished to meet all of your friends at some point but I never expected to have to meet her like this... Little John," Robin's eye narrowed mischievously when he saw his friend relax, "do you... have feelings for Alya?"

"Wh-what?!" the boy protested too much. Robin stifled a laugh, making Little John's ears turn bright red and his protests quieted. "I... might. But she does not know, you cannot say anything, Robin, please! I beg of you! You must keep it a secret!"

"Of course," Robin said still laughing lightly. "I would never divulge another man's secret feelings to the girl of his fancy or otherwise. What kind of man do you think I am?"

"A good one," Little John breathed with a sigh of relief. The two laughed together as the doors to the kitchen opened again. Robin stood from the table as the women came into the room. "Good morning, Lady Loxley."

"And good morning to you Little John!" The small woman who entered the room first rounded the table and her grey eyes caught with Robin's. She looked shocked, as did Robin. He knew this woman, at least, he had seen her a few times before. He knew her as Lady Sabine, sister to the late King Michael's wife, Queen Sybil. She was his aunt's sister.

"B-bonjour, Madame!" he said quickly before she could speak again. "Je m'appelle Robin. Je ne suis plus Adrien. J'ai abandonné cette vie. S'il te plaît, oublie que tu me connais."

"Comme vous le souhaitez. Il est bon de vous rencontrer, Robin," she said, a sad, gentle smile spreading across her face. The others in the room looked between the two of them and without missing a beat Sabine added, "Oh, it has been so long since I have been able to speak my native tongue! We must converse in-depth later! But for now, breakfast is served!"

 

* * *

 

Rough Translation:  
(I don't speak French, please correct me if I'm wrong.)

/"Good morning, Madame! My name is Robin. I am no longer Adrien. I have abandoned that life. Please, forget you ever knew me."/  
/"As you wish. It is good to meet you, Robin."/

**Author's Note:**

> Positive and Negative feedback is welcome here!


End file.
